


Something About Bob

by alba17



Category: Mad Men
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Episode Tag, Hotels, M/M, Masturbation, Non Consensual, Period Typical Attitudes, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alba17/pseuds/alba17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bob surprises Pete during a trip to Detroit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something About Bob

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: baggage. Kind of an episode tag to _The Quality of Mercy_. Written before the finale.

Pete shook his thumb at their suitcases and the bellcap ran over to get them, loading them up on a brass trolley and disappearing inside the hotel. Pete looked over to see Bob bringing up the rear after jumping out of the cab, his expression eager as always, even now, the freak.

The flight to Detroit had been uncomfortable, as expected. Pete had downed perhaps too many scotch and sodas. He could use a nap before they met up with the Chevy guys. A little unconsciousness wouldn’t go amiss after being on tenterhooks for several hours in the airplane seat with Bob fucking staring at him the entire time.

Staring was perhaps too strong a word. But every time Pete looked at him out of the corner of his eye, Bob had those puppy dog eyes. It was unnerving. After everything that had happened, what Pete had said to him, Bob was unphased. Maybe this was what had got him out of West Virginia: persistence. Either that, or stupid blind luck, the kind Pete never seemed to have.

The ride up in the elevator was equally as uncomfortable. Pete felt the eyes of the other passengers on him and Bob, like they could tell. He felt like blurting out, “There’s nothing here! Nothing! He’s the one!” Guilt crawled under his skin for non-existent trespasses. He hadn’t done anything, not a damn thing. Apparently all it took was complimenting Bob’s tie. These fags were so emotional.

He couldn’t wait to meet the Chevy team. He knew he would impress them. Bob nodded to him with a smile as they entered their separate rooms. Pete gratefully collapsed on the bed in the cushioned silence, thankful to at last be alone.

 

**

 

A wave of pleasure spread from Pete’s groin, barely piercing his consciousness. It was an exquisite sensation, something primal and deep that he didn’t want to let go of. The last vestiges of a dream, something about his mother and Manolo and a bike, were swept away by the tide of feeling. He gladly gave in to it. For awhile, he floated on a sea of frothy bubbles, rolling along in oblivion edged with intensity. As his excitement began to crest, he sensed the beginnings of wakefulness and confusion, but the momentum of his arousal couldn’t be denied. Just as his orgasm started, he woke up, opened his eyes, and realized what was going on.

There was Bob, eyes crinkling at the corners despite the fact that he had his mouth wrapped tightly around Pete’s cock and Pete’s come was spurting down his throat. His mouth still had that uplift at the corners. He was gazing at Pete with adoration.

Jesus fucking Christ. This couldn’t be happening. It was too late, he was already coming. There was nothing he could do about it. The bastard. 

“Bob! What the hell?” Pete scrambled away as soon as he physically could, leaving a trail of semen like an umbilical cord to Bob’s mouth.

Bob wiped his mouth on the sheet. “Wasn’t it good?” he said innocently.

“God damn it, that’s not the point, and you know it. You...you raped me!”

Bob sat up. He was wearing boxers. His physique was tidy and presentable. He looked at Pete with scrunched eyebrows. “Pete. Come on. It’s hardly rape when you come like that. You enjoyed it, and I was glad to do it.”

Pete gaped at him, speechless. He was very aware of his naked penis, the aftershocks of his orgasm that still thrummed through him. He rubbed his forehead with his fingers. “Bob. You can’t just go around...assaulting people in their beds.” Why was Bob in his room anyway? “What happened last night?”

“You don’t remember? You really tied one on.”

“I must have.”

“Do you remember the strip club?”

Pete shook his head. He really didn’t. Well, he had a vague memory of some floozy sticking her tongue down his throat and the rancid taste of too much Johnnie Walker, but that was about it.

Bob chuckled. “Well, I had to help you to bed. You were in pretty bad shape.”

Pete rolled his eyes. “I bet. Did you sleep here?” He frowned at Bob.

“I slept on the couch.” There was indeed a pillow and blanket on the couch. But Bob could have put them there as a decoy.

They were silent for a moment. Pete was taking it all in. “I suppose it isn’t that bad. I could say I was still drunk.”

“Are you?” Bob asked.

Pete thought for a moment. He had a headache and his stomach was unsettled, but he was sober. “No.”

“It was good, wasn’t it?” Bob gestured to Pete’s crotch.

“I suppose it was okay,” Pete admitted.

“There you go.” Bob grinned. He inched his hand next to Pete’s on the bedspread. He lifted his pinkie finger and made a little back and forth motion against Pete’s little finger.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Pete said and snatched his hand away. “Just because _that_ happened, I’m not going to let you do whatever you want.”

Bob held his hands up. “Okay, okay.” He was still smiling, the idiot. “It’s just that you’re so handsome.”

Pete sighed. “Good god.”

“Well. I’m glad you’re okay. We should do something about that hangover though. Do you want me to order up breakfast?”

“What, here? In the room?” Pete had visions of Bob opening the door for room service. They would _know_ what had happened and he’d be mortified.

“Just a suggestion. We can meet downstairs in the restaurant if you’d rather.”

“Yes, I would,” Pete said primly.

“All right then.” Bob walked over to the side table where his clothes were neatly folded. He got dressed and walked toward the door, then turned back. “Pete. I just wanted to let you know. I’m always available to you. If you need someone to talk to, have a problem you need fixed, I’m here. And if you have any more intimate needs, well. You can see that I have abilities in that area as well.” 

“I see. Is that the sort of service you provided at Brown Brothers Harriman?” Pete sneered.

“I think it’s important to keep others’ confidences. Suffice it to say, my employer was very happy with my work. Keep it in mind when you’re having a bad day. I might be able to improve matters.” He threw Pete a jaunty smile and exited the room.

Of all the...Bob had balls, that was for sure. 

Pete headed for the shower, his mind searching for ways he could use Bob to his advantage. He had to get something out of this little arrangement. Other than a - all right, he admitted it - fucking fantastic blowjob. Which, now that he considered, wasn’t such a bad benefit. It’s not like his wife was available to him, and he didn’t have a girlfriend. A series of prostitutes and near-prostitutes hardly made for a satisfying sex life. And Bob sure aimed to please. He seemed to know exactly what Pete needed. 

Pete soaped himself up, thinking about it. The image of Bob’s face with Pete’s cock stretching out his lips came to his mind. His cock thickened and his hand lingered on it. He remembered how Bob’s tongue had teased, the suction of his mouth. Before he knew it, he was whacking off for real. He felt horribly ashamed, but the temptation was too great. Twice in one morning. He really had to do something about Bob soon before this got out of hand. 

Or maybe not.


End file.
